


I Accidentally Fell Asleep On You On The Train: a Stucky AU

by Ice20



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, First Meetings, Meet-Cute, Veteran!Bucky, amputee!Bucky, asthmatic!Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 19:17:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4191777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ice20/pseuds/Ice20
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I saw this prompt on Tumblr: "Accidentally fell asleep on each other on the train au" and I thought it was too cute for me not to write it. So, here we go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Accidentally Fell Asleep On You On The Train: a Stucky AU

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everybody!
> 
> I hope you will enjoy this story. 
> 
> I am not a native English speaker, so if you find any mistake, please forgive me and let me know. I proof-read it just to make sure, but it could be I didn't spot all of them.

Bucky got on the 9 pm train to Brooklyn shivering in his leather jacket and with snow in his hair. It was cold, damn cold outside – freezing even, considering it was almost May and it was _not normal_ to have a snowstorm happen from day to night in the middle of Spring. His clothes weren't warm enough for him to feel comfortable in this kind of temperatures, but they were the nicest items he had, the only ones suitable for him to wear when he went to work. Not to mention the fact that the weather forecast had not anticipated something like this was gonna happen, but whatever.

Bucky scowled. He had had a long, tiring day, and wasn't the storm just the icing on the cake? He hated the cold and the bad weather – may it be rain, snow, or just wind – made his stump ache fiercely. The fact that the train was fifteen minutes late and the beginning of a headache was building behind his eyes made nothing to improve his mood.

When finally the train approached the platform and he got on the car, he was tired, _so_ tired. He fervently hoped to find an empty seat that allowed him to have his left side facing the windows. Other passengers sitting next to him always seemed uncomfortable noticing the lack of his left arm, fidgeting and trying to look everywhere but at the pinned sleeve where flesh and bone should have been, and doing their best to lean away from him in what should have been, in their own foolish mind, a subtle way.

Fuck, missing an arm wasn't contagious, there was no need for them to keep their distance; this thought had always made Bucky angry, since that very first day when he was released from the hospital and had taken the subway to come home. He couldn't stand stupidity and obtuseness. And still, he had to face them everyday.

Luckily though, it appeared God was being merciful of him today, because as the doors closed behind him, Bucky spotted an empty seat at the very end of the car. With a small, relieved sigh, he made his way there, as his eyes took in his surroundings. It was one of the – many – habits that had not left him once he had been discharged. And it wasn't necessarily a bad one, either. He couldn't help himself but always keep an eye on all possible exits, and continuously look for threats when he was in public places. The train was no different.

Covering the short distance separating him from his chosen seat, he counted two groups of women chatting friendly about their children and grandchildren, three businessmen wearing expensive suit, one old man watching something on a tablet, and a bunch of other people napping in their seats. Good. Everything seemed quiet.

Bucky sat down, and let his muscles relax for the first time that day. He squeezed his eyes shut but kept his ears open, ready to capt any sudden or unusual noise. It had been a long, tiring day in the office, and he was feeling more drained than usual.

Since Bucky had been honorably discharged, one year ago, he had had to begin his life once again, learning how to live in a completely different way. Just cutting his steak one armed had required a lot more patience and practice than anyone could have imagined. He had gone to a lot of interviews, looking for a job that would allow him to pay for the rent and keep going to his therapy sessions, combined with his small army-issued pension.

But usually, when they had found themselves facing a man missing an arm and with clear PTSD, his hopefully-future-employers had all politely smiled and told him that whey would contact him again soon, and never called back ever again, or that they were looking for someone with different credentials. The only woman who had graciously decided to hire him, after three full tiring months of job hunting, had offered him a place in a call center. Which Bucky had accepted, obviously.

Fuck, at that point, he was almost grateful for the opportunity – the rage at being treated as an outcast replaced by desperation and need. He had had to interrupt his session, therapy because he couldn't afford it anymore, and anyhow, paying the rent took priority on everything else. So he really, really needed a job.

It wasn't a bad place for work, too. Yes, it took him 40 minutes to go and just as many to come back, from him small apartment, but at least he wouldn't need to face custumers, meaning he wouldn't be receiving their judging stares. He just had to speak to them through a phone, and Bucky was more than happy with that solution.

That is, until he had discovered that a) custumers can be total, pretentious assholes even through a phone call, and b) he had to work in a cubicle, facing the fake wall in front of him, and with his back exposed to the open space behind him, the corridor, and therefore, whoever walked by. And this, for someone suffering from PTSD, was the epitome of a _nightmare_. But Bucky needed the money, so he had kept going, five days a week, trying his best to control his nerves for the eight hours he spent there, and usually feeling emotionally and physically drained as soon as he set foot out of the call center. The 40 minutes long journey that took him back to Brooklyn by train usually was the last straw, ofter forcing him to stand for the best part of it – in the absence of a suitable seat, which wasn't unusual.

But today, today Bucky had been lucky enough to find a seat, and the warmth of the car was making him feel slightly better after the waiting in the cold, outside. His stump was still throbbing and his headache was ready to explode, but his body was slowly drying from the cold water that had managed to infiltrate through his clothes, and it was so relaxed, his eyelids so heavy, that for the very first time he felt like he could fall into a nice slumber – just like all those other passengers he envied so much.

Vaguely, his sleepy mind realized that the train was coming to the first stop, but that didn't concern Bucky at all. He still had to wait for five other stations before he had to get up and get off. The doors opened and let the freezing air inside, making him grunt in displeasure, but still, they closed less than two minutes after, so Bucky couldn't complain at all. He blearily opened one eye to take a look at the new passengers that had got on, but none of them caught his attention and he closed it once again – or maybe, it closed on its own, Bucky didn't really know it for sure.

The sudden presence of a body sitting down next to him was enough to make him tense all over again, immediately opening his eyes to take a look at the person beside him.

His seatmate was a well-built blonde man with the bluest eyes Bucky had ever seen – which made him immediately think of the melody of a well known Guns N Roses' song – with a clean face and a small, apologetic smile on his lips.

“Sorry I woke you,” he said.

Bucky grunted. That seemed to be his default answer to any kind of social interaction, these days.

“Wasn't asleep,” he replied, the slurring in his words surprising his own ears, and his eyelids slowly falling again.

With a certain degree of surprise, Bucky realized that he was feeling comfortable enough, around this stranger, to fall back into that relaxed state right next to him. It was highly unusual. Bucky never felt comfortable around anyone, these days.

“Sure you weren't,” the guy softly shot back, the smirk clear in his voice.

Bucky was too tired to reply, and anyway the surface where his cheek was resting was too comfortable for him to find the strength to raise his head and find an appropriate retort. Most of all, said surface was emanating heat like a furnace, and that's just what Bucky needed to feel even more cozy than he already was.

His mind didn't even register how fast he fell asleep after that. His body just went lax, and his breathing evened, lulled by the movement of the train and the slow raise and fall of the shoulder – because yes, that was definitely a shoulder, his sleepy head was awake just long enough to register that.

He woke up some time later, to a hand gently shaking his shoulder and apologetic words being murmured.

“I'm sorry to wake you, buddy, but that's my stop and I really need to get down, now”

Bucky's foggy brain told him it was the blonde guy speaking, and he moved his head to free that shoulder with a comical scowl – because damn, but that shoulder was fucking comfy. His eyes glared tiredly at the guy, but there was no heat in it.

“Are you, uh, are you sure you're gonna wake up at the right station, pal? I don't really want you to travel all the way to the terminal only to take another train back in this kind of weather,” the guy went on.

_And what the hell? Was the man a fucking saint and Bucky his today's personal charity case?_ Bucky thought. He knew which stop he had to get off, thank you very much, he wasn't a child for God's sake! He opened his mouth to tell the guy that much, when suddenly his brain registered the fact that he had _already missed his stop!_ He should have gotten off the train four stations before the one they were currently heading in.

His shocked surprise must have shown on his face, because as the train slowed down considerably and approached the platform, which was only lit by the street lamps against the dark of the night, the guy gave him a sympathetic look.

“You should have gotten off already, don't you?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah,” he managed to stutter, his voice stuck somewhere in between his chest and his throat. He thought about how late it already was, almost 10 pm, and how few trains were likely to stop there.

“Dammit,” he cursed.

How could he have been so stupid as to fall asleep on the moving train? How was it possible? He had let his guard down long enough to miss his stop, and now he was stuck in a part of the suburban district he wasn't familiar with at all. He sincerely hoped another train would come by soon, because his head was hurting like a bitch now that he thought about it, and his stump was in no better shape.

Once again, it was the blonde that pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Come on,” he told Bucky. “The next train is gonna come by in a little over half an hour, and my apartment is right in front of the station. You can crash there and avoid the cold and the snow as you wait, at least”

Bucky found himself seriously considering the offer, but he didn't want to impose. And however, it was the guy's fault that he had missed his stop in the first place. Had he not been so comfy, Bucky would have woken up much earlier. And yes, that was a bit hypocritical maybe, but he didn't care at all.

He got up from his seat with a grunt, walking behind the blonde towards the opened doors, and shook his head.

“Thanks pal, but there's really no need. It's fine, I'll just wait here,” he said with feigned nonchalance, as if the prospect of a long waiting in such bad weather didn't bother him at all.

“Really, it wouldn't be a problem if you just stayed with me instead of out here, I don't mind and -” the guy was saying once again as they stepped off, but then he turned and he noticed it.

He noticed the pinned up sleeve, the lack of a limb where one should have been. Bucky saw the exact moment it happened. His blue eyes widened slightly, and he gaped a little bit. It all lasted a quarter of a second, maybe, but Bucky was used to such reactions, and it wasn't difficult for him to spot them. He could see the pity in the guy's eyes as soon as the realization sank in.

The guy awkwardly cleared his throat. “I, uh, if you wanna come in, I don't have anyone waiting for me, so you know, you can stay, really, and just wait for the first train, or I can order some food and you can take the train after that, too, that wouldn't be a problem,” he reassured Bucky, talking a mile a minute.

Bucky shook his head, eyes lowered in shame. He hated being pitied, but he also hated to think how helpless he must appear, to have other people pitying him.

“Thanks, really, but I can get by on my own. I may be missing an arm, but that doesn't mean I need your pity, or I'm incapable of waiting here on my own,” he grunted, maybe with a bit more hatred than needed. He was aware that the guy was only trying to help, but he was way too tired and annoyed to care. Silently, he thanked God for them being the only people on the platform; he didn't really want to cause a scene.

The blonde's face fell in front of his eyes. Bucky saw the tentative smile disappear, and an equally embarrassed and apologetic look replace it. He almost felt bad for the guy; surely he was a bit sheepish now that his words had registered to his won ears. It was an unpleasant feeling that only increased when the man opened his mouth once again.

“It's not pity, you know? I would really be happy to have you for dinner – if you want it, too. I'm... I'm alone, and I do like the company of other people.” Then, a bit sheepishly, “I have asthma, you know? And I always hated it when my teachers pitied me or treated me like a baby, and my classmates made fun of me, so I'm not just asking you for pity,” the guy confessed.

Bucky looked at him, weighting his words. They appeared sincere, that's for sure, and he felt inclined to believe them. He also felt bad for being such an asshole to the guy. There was something in him that inspired confidence and trust; he looked like he was physically unable to tell a lie so openly. Bucky had learned over the years – and especially over the years spent in the army before the accident – that his instincts were to be accounted way more than training and logic did, sometimes. And right now, those same instincts were telling him he could really trust those words.

Tentatively, the blonde raised his right hand.

“I'm Steve Rogers”

Bucky looked at him, studying his open and earnest face, the blonde locks where snow was landing and slowly melting, and the outstretched arm. The palm of that hand was big and broad, and so, so very welcoming. And Steve's eyes were clear and honest. Kinder than what he was used to.

“I'm James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky,” he finally said, shaking Steve's hand in his own. He didn't know what had prompted him to tell the guy his old nickname, the one all his oldest friends used, but he did it anyway. And it... it just felt right. “And I would like to have some company, too, if _that's_ the reason why you're inviting me over”

Steve smiled at him, and Bucky was amazed by the beauty of that smile, the way it lit up Steve's face completely. He felt a funny sensation twisting his stomach.

The blonde nodded softly.

“Nice to meet you too, Bucky,” he said. A shiver ran down Bucky's spine as Steve's tongue rolled his nickname on it, like it was testing – or maybe tasting? – it. Their hands were still entwined, but Steve didn't seem to mind, and Bucky for sure wasn't bothered the least by it. “And yes, that's the reason I'm inviting you over. Come on, this way,” Steve prompted, leading Bucky towards the street and a tall building right across it.

Their fingers were still holding each other's as Bucky followed Steve compliantly. His stump was still aching, and his headache had not left him all of a sudden – surely not healed by the pure force of the big crush he was sure he now definitely had for the guy, even if he had just met him and that was frankly creepy – but somehow, even though he was hurting, Bucky was also feeling better. Way better, actually, than he had in a very long time.

And, for once, he was confident that something good would come from this casual and honestly odd meeting on the train.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think.
> 
> Kudos and reviews always make me happy! ^_^
> 
> Come and talk to me on my tumblr!
> 
> [IceDrifter](http://www.icedrifter.tumblr.com)


End file.
